Place your winter-tipped fingers on the small of my back

as a gentle directive to let a waiting stranger

pass by.

Smile sweetly behind your hand as I eagerly fill silence,

and I will quietly fall

in love with you.

A strung up balloon gripped tightly

in the fist of a child. I believe it will last forever.

Wholly ripe         once-bitten

             waxy sheen          clean flesh

erect stem           a cockade

             yet still

there is no such thing

          as a green delicious

Irina sizzles in time and

space. The air is hot

where she has been.

Blonde blonde hair

conceals the fire

that burns inside

her eyes.

my old leather jacket hangs

over the back of a wooden chair

the black voids of its sleeves

dangle inviting limbs

I sit down slip my arms in

and stand transformed

a beast with six legs

clattering at the threshold

encased in this husk

I chose for myself

Photosynthesis

should be our god,

the forests

our churches,

our bible

a blade of grass

in a galactic sidewalk.

We are the only ones.

We’re traveling

sixty-six thousand

miles per hour,

don’t need a helmet,

or even have to hold on.

Just look out the window.

hollow wings drift low

over tin-roof rain

and sleeping pigeons

a flicker of neon

mourns in the puddles

where laughter once lived

somewhere a match

burns for no reason

but to remember light

we are the echoes

of soft-named storms

still humming dawn’s hush

The eclipse came early, upended

the day. The earth’s shadow

widening, waxing

into the wet mouth

of the sun. Or something

like that. I didn’t see it, still

staring instead at Icarus.

His wet skull on the pavement.

Check back after the 15th of the month for the new mini.

Check back after the 15th of the month for the new mini.

Check back after the 15th of the month for the new mini.

Check back after the 15th of the month for the new mini.

Check back after the 15th of the month for the new mini.